


Things We Don't Say

by dogpoet



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, ksadvent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 20:22:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogpoet/pseuds/dogpoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Spock go winter camping during shore leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things We Don't Say

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [尽在不言中 [Things We Don't Say]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087750) by [Cipher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cipher/pseuds/Cipher), [dogpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogpoet/pseuds/dogpoet)



> Written for ksadvent2009.

Omicron III had been deemed safe by the Science Department, and various members of the crew had beamed down for staggered shore leave shifts. They each had twenty-four hours away from the ship, and Jim had talked Spock into going camping.

Spock, however, was not one to stop working. He carried his tricorder, taking readings now and then as he and Jim walked through the forest on the uncharted planet. It appeared to be Omicron winter – the ground beneath their feet sometimes crunched as they shattered ice crystals with their boots. Spock knelt more than once to examine the crystalline formations beneath the light layer of leaves and soil. It was chilly and cloudy, not the most ideal weather for shore leave. Many of the trees retained their leaves, which Spock commented on, taking samples for his collection, rambling on about vascular systems and possible adaptations to persistent cold weather. Jim ambled along beside him, content to listen to Spock's voice, which was modulated despite his scientific fervor.

It felt like it might snow, but Jim refrained from mentioning that fact, thinking it would make Spock want to return to the ship. It was nice to be out in the open air with the weak Omicron sun shining through the clouds above them. Much as he loved the _Enterprise_, Jim missed fresh air and sunlight and the uncertainty of shifting weather. The _Enterprise_ was climate-controlled and light-controlled, never subject to the whims of Mother Nature or the cycle of the seasons.

"What about here?" Jim asked, gesturing to a grove of piney looking trees.

"It appears to be an adequate site offering both a level surface and protection from possible inclement weather." Spock gazed at the sky, as if trying to predict the probability that it would rain something down on them. Spock was already wearing his fleece and shell, and had even donned a hat.

"Are you warm enough? You want my fleece?" Jim took the two sides of Spock's unzipped shell and zipped them together. "You look cold."

Spock's eyes, however, were full of heat. Jim leaned in to kiss him, flooded with fondness. Spock deepened the kiss, his cold lips quickly warming under Jim's. It had been 422 days since their first kiss. Jim had kept careful count, knowing that Spock was doing the same. Four hundred twenty-two days was a long time, possibly – no, definitely – the longest Jim had ever spent with one person. The truth was, he couldn't remember any other relationships coming close. Sometimes all of those accumulated days terrified him.

Jim stepped back reluctantly. "Maybe we should set up the tent," he suggested. "Before it gets dark."

"That would be prudent," Spock said.

Jim dropped his pack onto the ground and dumped its contents out. The tent was in there somewhere. Jim looked up to see Spock's lifted eyebrow wordlessly saying: _You are a most chaotic individual._ Or something like that.

They fell into their usual efficient team mode, assembling the tent in no time at all. The first flurries of snow filled the air just as Spock drove the last stake into the ground, securing the fly.

"Spock? Is it true that no two snowflakes are alike?" Jim loved asking questions just to make Spock jabber on about something.

Spock looked at Jim knowingly, but if he had caught on to Jim's stratagem, he played along without complaint. "Attempts to find identical snowflakes have not been successful, but given the fact that an average snowflake is composed of ten to the eighteenth power water molecules, there are a finite number of formations. Also, given the number of snowflakes that have formed since the development of planetary systems, I must conclude that identical snowflakes have existed, though perhaps not concurrently in time."

Spock examined several snowflakes that had fallen on his glove.

Jim smiled and lay on the ground a short distance from the tent, letting the cold, fluffy flakes fall on his face. He closed his eyes and listened to Spock.

"Additionally, there are many types of snow. What is commonly known as a snowflake is of the dendrite class. There are also harder pellets, sleet, acicular snow –"

"What's acicular snow?" Jim interrupted.

"Needle-shaped," Spock said, then fell silent.

Jim couldn't say what it was, but he always knew when Spock was near. Maybe it was energy. Or heat. Spock made no sound, but when Jim reached out a hand, he encountered a boot. He caressed the boot blindly, then tucked his fingers into the top of it, feeling the warmth of Spock's leg through the fabric of his pants. He opened his eyes to find Spock crouching beside him.

"Do you plan on sleeping out here? I predict you will develop hypothermia." Flakes of snow dotted Spock's hat and his jacket.

Sometime in the last few months, Jim had come to realize he loved Spock. Not just loved him, but _Loved_ him. Like, for life. If that wasn't scary as shit, he didn't know what was. He wasn't one to throw the capital L-word around for fear of the consequences, so he hadn't, and he didn't now. "I love your feet," he said instead, squeezing Spock's foot through the boot. "And your knees." He propped himself on his elbow and leaned to kiss Spock's knee. Spock probably already knew how Jim felt, but if he did, he didn't mention it.

"They are serviceable," Spock responded, brushing snow from Jim's hair before rising to his feet.

They dragged their packs into the tent, then unwrapped their sandwich dinners. Chicken salad: yum! Berlak leaves and lima bean paste: not so yum, but Spock liked it.

"We have no source of heat within the tent," Spock observed.

"You've never been winter camping, have you? The key is to go with someone you want to be naked with in a sleeping bag. That's where the heat comes from." Jim leered at Spock and waggled his eyebrows.

Spock's face remained impassive. "I am beginning to comprehend the reasoning behind your suggestion that we camp."

"It's good we understand each other."

"May I point out, however, that one sleeping bag is not large enough to accommodate both of us?"

Jim grabbed the two sleeping bags, which were still in their stuff sacks. "For a scientist, Spock, you lack some basic engineering skills. Watch."

Jim wrenched the sleeping bags out of the stuff sacks. Spock immediately picked up the sacks and began folding them before placing them into his backpack. Jim unzipped the sleeping bag zippers all the way, then fastened the two bags together before zipping them up again to make a double sleeping bag.

Spock smoothed the sleeping bag, straightening it on the airpad beneath. "Most ingenious."

"You love my noodle," Jim said.

Spock only raised his eyebrow slightly in response.

By the time they climbed into their modified sleeping bag, night had fallen. The pale white of the snowy sky made everything look ghostly. The light flurries had turned into heavy snow with gusts of wind. Inside the tent, Jim upended a flashlight so that it shone on the ceiling, illuminating the small cocoon. The wind batted flakes of snow against the roof, causing soft, skating sounds of ice on fabric, like moths hitting a screen door.

The air in the tent was cold. Spock's nose was cold. And his ears. Jim touched one of them with a warm finger brought out from under the covers.

The limited space inside the sleeping bag prevented some of their more sprawling bed activities. Jim considered trying to hunker down inside the sleeping bag to suck Spock's dick, but one awkward attempt later, he decided he wasn't that ambitious. Spock took control of the situation, pinning him and kissing him with the kind of attention and thoroughness ordinarily reserved for his scientific experiments.

In the muffled quiet of the tent, their kisses sounded loud, lips moving against lips. The slip of tongues. Jim's quickening breaths and his hums of pleasure. The brush of their limbs against the soft lining of the sleeping bag. Spock's cock prodded at Jim's stomach, inquisitive and persistent.

"This reminds me of the first time we did it," Jim murmured between kisses. "Remember?" They had been quiet then, too, in the guest quarters of an Altairian diplomat, wary of being heard. They had touched each other only with their hands, furtively, kissing as they groped.

"Mm," Spock said, licking the bit of skin behind Jim's earlobe.

"You were so shy."

Spock pulled back.

"What?" Jim asked.

"I believe _you_ were nervous," Spock said, as if pointing out an error.

"I was not – I don't get nervous!" Jim supposed it was impossible to hide things like that from a Vulcan. Especially if that Vulcan had his tongue in your mouth. "Okay, fine. I was nervous," he admitted. "Can you blame me?"

"I do not blame you."

"That was a rhetorical question." Jim reached between their bodies and closed his hand around Spock's dick, twisting gently, moving his fist up and down. He knew what Spock liked now.

Spock groaned and buried his face in Jim's neck. He began to thrust his hips in time with the movements of Jim's hand, slow and easy. They weren't hurrying at all. That was different from the first time, too. Then, they'd hardly known what to do with their desperation once they got their hands on each other.

Jim could tell when Spock wanted him to speed up. He didn't know how he knew, he just did. With his free hand, he reached for Spock's balls, palming them, capturing them in his hand, rubbing behind them with one straying finger, pressing lightly. Spock came with a soft gasp, his arms shaking with the effort of holding himself up for so long. He rolled onto his side, throwing one leg over Jim's. Jim turned his head for a kiss, already jerking himself off. Spock stopped his hand and pushed it away.

"I will do that for you."

"Hurry up."

Spock bit at Jim's lip in reply. His fingers found some of the slick fluid on Jim's belly and spread it over the head of his cock, slipping and sliding.

"Don't tease me." Jim thrust his hips upward, demanding.

Spock kissed him harder, his hand still working inside the sleeping bag, fingers tracing the length of Jim's cock, spreading more of his come, then finally taking hold of the shaft, gripping it with just the right amount of pressure. Jim spread his legs and brought one hand to stroke his balls, adding to the rush of sensation until he spasmed in Spock's hand.

"Mm," Jim said, suddenly sleepy. He pawed blindly for something to wipe his stomach with. He found a shirt, and hoped it was his, not Spock's. Spock hated dirty clothes.

When he was done, he found Spock lying on his side staring at him.

"What?"

"I did not think I would enjoy winter camping."

"Then why did you say you'd do it? We don't always have to do what I want to do."

"I trust you," Spock said.

Jim didn't know what to say to that. Instead of replying, he adjusted the fleeces, which were folded under their heads, turned off the flashlight, and pulled the sleeping bag closer around them. He touched Spock's nose with his finger to see if it had warmed up. It had. Satisfied, Jim curled into Spock and fell asleep.

When he woke, hours later, it was morning. A dim light shone through the fabric of the tent and the layer of snow weighing it down. Jim felt like he was in an igloo. The world was absolutely silent. Beside him, Spock woke. He always seemed to sense when Jim was awake.

"Hey," Jim said.

"You slept well," Spock stated.

Jim had slept well. The communicators had not beeped once, which meant there had been no dire emergencies.

"Ooh, snow. I want to go out!" Jim scrambled out of the sleeping bag naked, and crawled to the entrance of the tent. He unzipped the flap. "Damn, it's cold. I think my balls are going to fall off."

"They have not yet," Spock observed from behind Jim.

Jim heard the rustling of the sleeping bag, and felt the tugging of the fabric under his knees. He moved over, guessing what Spock was doing. That genius Vulcan. Spock reoriented the sleeping bag so that the opening was beside the entrance to the tent. Jim climbed back into the bag, his cold skin meeting Spock's warmth. He shivered.

"Brr!" he said, worming closer to Spock.

Spock kissed him. It was a nice way to start the day.

"This is our 423rd day together," Jim said in an offhand way, purposely not elaborating. He wondered if that statement of fact would mean the same thing to Spock as it did to him.

"I did not think you were keeping track."

"You don't know everything that goes on in my head."

"That is, perhaps, fortunate."

Jim smiled. He found Spock's fingers with his. They looked at one another, faces close.

"There are many things you do not tell me," Spock said, rubbing their fingers together.

"I know. And there are things you don't tell me." Bonds and other mysterious Vulcan traditions. Spock would tell him in time, he was sure.

They rolled onto their stomachs and looked out. Everything was covered in deep snow. The leaves dangled, heavy and white. Branches were stacked with with delicate, crystalline walls. Rocks and boulders were nothing more than soft, white lumps. The sky arched clear and lavender above them.

Jim breathed deeply, letting the sun shine on his face. This was how he had felt 423 days earlier – like the old world had disappeared, and a new one had come overnight to take its place, shining and glorious, laid out for him to explore. He couldn't wait.

The end.


End file.
